To The Lands Beyond: Inheritance Cycle Book 5(Full version on Wattpad)
by Snail Vanquisher
Summary: Däralekk, a grey elf, has awoken from his slumbers in the elven city Araduthrëa, and he will take Arya's place as ruler of the elves so Arya will go with Eragon to the lands beyond Alagaësia, and will meet many great wonders within the new land. If you like my story, please visit WattPadd for future updates: Username: -WhiteFang- (Chapters 7, 8, 9 and 10 are already out on Wattpad)


Chapter 1: Daralekk

Gasping, Däralekk felt his mind awaken from it's dormant state it had remained in for the past few thousand years. His mind flooded with panic as he looked around and saw nothing but the dark walls of some unknown stone. He cast a spell to sever the edges of the roof hanging above him, and pushed it outwards with relief. He was afraid it might be protected even against himself, but his fears were unfounded.

As his muscles were not used to the strain, they gave out as soon as he put the slightest bit of pressure on them, so he promptly fell back down immediately after he tried to stand up in the tomb he had ensconced himself in; it was so long ago he did not remember what material he used. He then began to wonder about the goings-on in the land he had left for solitude some many many years ago.

Finally finding his legs, or so he thought, as he stepped over the walls of the he saw the forest floor of the forst Du Weldenvarden rushing towards his head, he instinctively shot his hands out to stop himself from smacking his fact on the rock that now stared him right in the face, as if taunting him. Jumping up, he looked around him.

He noticed the old elven city, Araduthrëa. As he wondered what he was doing in this ancient city that appeared to have been uncivilized for hundreds of years, he was jolted forwards as memories started flooding back to him.

He was wandering the forsest, looking for the disturbance that seemed to emenate from the building in front of him. As he did, he was mentally assaulted by what he thought was Bagӓl, and most likely the youngling Gabatorix. As he closed off his mind, he wondered why they were trying to kill him. Bagäl did not seem to have much enmity for Däralekk, but he was uncertain about galbatorix. He was undoubtedly stronger than both of them alone, but he was not so sure that he could defeat them both.

Deciding that he would test their physical abilities first, he focused his efforts on swinging a hard right arc with his sword towards Bagäl, the intensity of his attack preventing either of them from wriggling their way into his mind and wreak havoc. As Bagäl blocked, Gabatorix assaulted him as well, but he let his wards protect him against his attacks, for the grey elf was undoubtedly the more powerful of the two, and he wanted to eleminate the biggest threat first. As Galbatorix hacked away at his wards, Däralekk blocked a counter-swing from Bagäl.

Däralekk's mind seemed to black out then, and he gasped as another onslaught of memories barraged him, this time yet more painful memories.

His wards were gone, and he was being forced to deflect both the grey elf and Gabatorix's onslaughts. He could feel every hit that landed on him through the memories, the cold steel slicing his left thigh to shreds. He managed to slice Bagäl's sword arm off, yet he could still fight with his left just as easily, and switched arms with a spell and a grimace. He could not touch Galbatorix as he had done Bagäl, however, so he suspected that another person was protecting him.

Tiring from the amount of cuts he sustained, he limped towards Bagäl and stabbed him in the shoulder. Bagäl, his mouth gurgling forth fountains of blood, stepped back for a respite. As he did, Däralekk persued him. He stopped abruptly as he saw a pale blue sword flash in an arc towards his side.

Gasping as galbatorix slid his sword out of his crushed ribs, he slashed at galbatorix's face, and galbatorix miscalculated, and his deflection altered his sword's direction. He felt multiple wards break from around Galbatorix, and his sword striking bone. As he pulled his sword out of Galbatorix's left arm, he noticed that it was mangled, hanging loosely by his side. Enraged, he swung out at Däralekk, who parried it as he turned his attentions to the grey elf behind Galbatorix.

As they both continued to assault him, each receiving and delivering blows, Däralekk began to realize that he could not win this fight without magic. Placing wards around himself to protect himself against even a rider's sword, he devised and intoned them in his mind so they would not hear, he began to intensify his attack on Galbatorix to distract him.

Focusing his mental power into a thin wily blade, he assaulted Bagäl, and he was so well learned that despite the fact that he was not protecting his mind against attacks directly, the focus he poured into attacking Bagäl was all Galbatorix could see.

Frustrated, Galbatorix swung at Däralekk like a madman, his wards decreasing at an alarming rate. Redoubling his efforts against Bagäl, he wormed his way into the grey elf's mind. Once inside, he could hear Bagäl shreiking as he stabbed his way through the last of his defenses that protected his most valuable secrets. He then witnessed Bagäl intoning a spell, and knowing exactly what he planned to do, he deflected it as easily as if he were swatting away a fly.

He could feel an almost unbearable pain in his stomach, and cursed himself for not realizing that Bagäl's blade was poisoned. If he did not find the cure or put his body in a state of comatose, he was going to die very soon.

Chanting swiftly in the Ancient language, he fell to the ground in exaustion. As he watched, Bagäl's lifeless body fell to the ground, his spine protruding from his neck and his head lolling to the side. Leaping up, he deflected Galbatorix's blow as his wards failed him. Staggering backwards, he stared in disbelief as a shade and a host of the Forsworn stepped out of the trees and joined Galbatorix. Surveying frantically for a place he might hide from Galbatorix, he careened into a clearing.

Lurching himself out of the painful memories, he surveyed the clearing he was in, the very same clearing he had dueled with Galbatorix in. He felt the residue of magic still on the clearing, and gazed at the tomp he had ensconced himself in for over a hundred years.

Pain, such as the likes as he had never experienced in a hundred years pounded in his ears as he was dragged back into the memories, suspecting that it was of his own doing.

Frantically searching around the clearing, he spotted an ancient cave partially hidden by lichen and moss from disuse. Dashing into the deepest reaches of the cave, he cast a spell that cocooned himself in a magical substance that, over time, cured a body of poisons. He then cast a ward of invisibility around the cocoon, and many more wards to protect the cocoon from being attacked or detected with magic.

Walls soon began to form around him. and he heard the shouts of dragons and of men as they glanced at the end of the cave, and loud curses soon greeted his ears as they turned back to look in other places in this secret elven cave. Finally ensconsced in darkness, Däralekk purged his mind of all dangerous memories, casting another spell along with it to make him remember as soon as he awoke.

Däralekk was yet again wrenched from his memories, and the memories that he had deemed dangerous long ago flooded into his mind. He sometimes laughed, sometimes cried, and yet other times the memories filled him with wonder.

Breathing the musty air in, he heard his stomach growling in protest as he started running. Stopping abruptly and surveying the area for some food, he noticed a garden that was overgrown with edible plants. Snatching handfuls of the juicy pear-like fruits, he shoved them into his mouth greedily. Juice dribbled down his chin as he gorged himself, even eating the stems and seeds hidden inside.

Satisfied, he set out at a brisk stride towards what he knew to be Ellesméra. He jumped out of the way as foxes and other rodents scurried past, seeming as if deeming their end destination more important than any events happening around them.

As the city he was entombed in was very far to the edges of the elves' realm, He had decided along with the elders of old that the wards set around Du Weldenvarden should not reach there. He still had to run quite a bit before reaching it, so he deepened his stride.

As he was nearing the outreaches of Du Weldenvarden, he admired the amount of effort the elves had gone through to help the forest; It was much thicker and prosperous than when he had last seen it. He felt the energy spent to make the forest thrive was worth it, and again wondered why no other race saw it fitting to succor the countless living creatures all around them, as if they were oblivous to all life but their own.

As he neared the barrier that protected the forest that he had helped create long ago, he severed the flow of magic feeding he spell that propelled him forwards. As he did, he felt his body jolt as it crashed into an invisible barrier, and he landed with an audible thud. His knees flexing as they hit the ground, he sprang forwards into the forest, he felt that he should have been exemt from the spell, as he was one of the only Grey Folk to grace the presence of the elves, but just as quickly dismissed the thought, as he knew the elves would not approve.

Feeling as if he had just been reborn, he set out on a lope going deeper into the forest, leaping over small animals and giant protruding roots in his path. The trees around him became more densely packed as he went further into the forest, and he was constantly forced to dodge trees as he darted in and out of their shadows, the sunlight dappling the forest floor beneath him.

He soon noticed a golden speck, becoming more and more of a noticible figure int the distance, and smiled, his immaculate teeth shining through his normally stoic demeanor. As he neared Gilderien the Wise, he saw his eyes glimmer as recognition shone across his face as the spell of forgetfullness cast upon he and his whole race dissipated.

"Däralekk?" He asked, incredulous.

"Ah, I see you haven't fogotten me after all! I was beginning to wonder!" He said, cheerily.

The Guardian of Ellesmera stared at him in disbeleif. "When did you leave? I don't seem to remember what forced you to leave. Somethin about the rest of your race?" He asked, confused and shocked that her, standing before him was one of the few grey elves residing in Alagaësia. He could not remember any other time that he has been shocked as much as in this particular instance.

"I left when I felt it was time for me to hide myself so that I might stay in alagaesia. I did not wish to leave Alagaësia along with rest of my race, for I saw great things happening in this land I wished to see how things would progress in the next few thousand years." He replied.

Däralekk slowly walked forwards as Gilderien opened wide his arms with a gesture of welcome, and, he discerned with smugness, a sense of awe. As he walked past the sunlight dappled city of Ellesmera, he regarded the city with a sense of wonder, as if he had never been there before. He had, in fact, many times, but in the last thousand years the trees had not been so large or volumunous as they appeared before him. He appreciated the fact that the elves had not abandoned their love of nature, yet he sensed that a great sadness had overcome their race.

In the days of old, the elves would laugh and dance all 'round him as he joined in their carefree revelry, yet now he rarely caught glimpses of the few elves that were present in the outskirts of the cities, and he discerned that a great battle had taken place not long ago due to the residue of magic that clung to the tree branches like sap.

As he entered the densely packed wall of trees that made up Tialdarí Hall, he could not help but notice the beauty that was the forest city of Ellesmëra. Trees appeared as if carved, sometimes, knotted, as yet more appeared as buildings, their branches intertwining unnaturally, some trees forming benches for elves to sit and gossip about past events.

He advanced amid shouts of astonishment that indicated that many elves had perceived his identity. He felt dozens of elves feeling his mind to see if he was indeed what they remembered, the last of the Grey Elves to remain in Alagaësia. The elves stared at him in wonder.

Shouts of "Where have you been?", "Why did you choose to hide from us?", and many other, more accusatory greetings assaulted his ears.

Looking to the heavens as if for help, Däralekk waited patiently until the cries had abated.

"I see many of you here that wish to know who am I, yet also too few who now remember who I am from long ago. I cannot beleive they have all died; Where are your warriors? And Islanzadí? What of your leader? Might I deign to ask where they have gone?"

"They have gone to rid the land of a great evil; The human Galbatorix." One grey haired elf materialized out of a tree as if invisible.

Before Däralekk could comment on the matter, a commotion greeted his ears. As he turned around, he recognized the flashes of armor and the fresh scent of dried blood that connoted an army was approaching through the trees.

In the days of old, the elves would laugh and dance all 'round him as he joined in their carefree revelry, yet now he rarely caught glimpses of the few elves that were present in the outskirts of the cities, and he discerned that a great battle had taken place not long ago due to the residue of magic that clung to the tree branches like sap.

As he entered the densely packed wall of trees that made up Tialdarí Hall, he could not help but notice the beauty that was the forest city of Ellesmëra. Trees appeared as if carved, sometimes, knotted, as yet more appeared as buildings, their branches intertwining unnaturally, some trees forming benches for elves to sit and gossip about past events.

He advanced amid shouts of astonishment that indicated that many elves had perceived his identity. He felt dozens of elves feeling his mind to see if he was indeed what they remembered, the last of the Grey Elves to remain in Alagaësia. The elves stared at him in wonder.

Shouts of "Where have you been?", "Why did you choose to hide from us?", and many other, more accusatory greetings assaulted his ears.

Looking to the heavens as if for help, Däralekk waited patiently until the cries had abated.

"I see many of you here that wish to know who am I, yet also too few who now remember who I am from long ago. I cannot beleive they have all died; Where are your warriors? And Islanzadí? What of your leader? Might I deign to ask where they have gone?"

"They have gone to rid the land of a great evil; The human Galbatorix." One grey haired elf materialized out of a tree as if invisible.

Before Däralekk could comment on the matter, a commotion greeted his ears. As he turned around, he recognized the flashes of armor and the fresh scent of dried blood that connoted an army was approaching through the trees.

Chapter 2: Arya

As the host of elves returning from the seige of Urû'baen traipsed through the forest of Du Weldenvarden, Arya saw the entrance to Tialdarí Hall, which put a spring to her step. She immediately stopped in her tracks as the elves in front of her halted, as if they were gaping at something; she could not tell as to what they were staring at, as even though she was taller than most humans, she did not come close to some of the men of her race.

She then opened up her mind, and smiled as she recognized the ship she had made of leaves shone brightly above the plants it glided above, oblivious to anything else around it. She also noticed the multitude of bedazzling minds that denoted the elves walking in front of her, and looking past them as she directed her search towards the object of such consternation, and gasped.

Never before had she felt a mind so powerful as this. This grey elf could have defeated Galbatorix with impunity. His mind buzzed with activity, and she denoted that his was of a noble disposition, as he wore his posture high and proud for all to see. There were so many questions she was bursting to ask him, cheif among them why he had awoken only after the threat of Galbatorix was over, and she also wished to know if there were any more of his race that had survived.

She heard the grey elf hail Lord Däthedr from afar, and realization shone on his face. As he neared, a sense of awe pervaded the clearing as many of the elves, who as if they had met him before, gawked at the figure before them, speechless. She wondered from where they remembered him, indignant, and why no one had told her of him before.

"Däralekk?" Lord Däthedr asked, still in shock.

"You are correct, my friend Däthedr." He repllied, and she thought she detected a hint of amusement in his voice.

At Däthedr's command, the column advanced forward, Islanzadí's litter front and foremost. Arya noticed Däralekk stepping forwards to pay homage to the deceased queen. He turned to give Arya a sympathetic glance, then turned to walk with Däthedr as they talked about what had transpired in the time Däralekk had been absent fromt he goings on in the world. The clanking of armor as the column increased their pace soon muffled their conversation, so Arya could only overhear snatches of their conversation.

Arya then was jolted from her reverie as she felt the pale, green egg she held in her arms quiver and shake. She again contented herself with gazing at the swirling white whorls that mingled with the beautiful emerald green of the egg, as if there were clouds swirling around it. It gave the egg a mysterious apperance. Arya then started hearing small squeaks that must have been going on for a while due to the looks she realized were being directed towards her, and directed her attention to the cracks that were forming along the top of the egg. She quivered with excitement, her eyes glowing with excitement.

Chapter 3: Firnen

Arya watched in fascination as a small, green, scaly head forced it's way out of the egg she held in her arms. As it poked it's scaly green head out of it's shell, she admired it's color, that of the forest as it was shaded, and she knew it would be a brilliant emerald green when the bright noon sun shined on him. The dragon turned to look at her, and she felt a tendril of thought tug at her mind. As soon as she opened her mind up to the dragon, she immediately thought of a name that fit the dragon.

Fírnen. She named the dragon in her mind.

She could feel a mix of jumbled emotions from Fírnen, yet cheif among them was the harmony they felt with each other. She could sense that she had chosen the right name as she felt he agreed that it was good by studying his emotions and patterns of his mind. It would be one or two days until he would gain the ability to talk, so she slipped out of the column of elves, and strode deeper into the forest towards her room in Tialdarí Hall. As she walked, she stared in disbeleif at the dragon she held in her arms. She could not even begin to comphrehend the fact that she was a dragon rider. She would be able to fly with Eragon!

She imagined herself flying on a majestic green dragon, shining brilliantly in the sunlight that was unobscured by clouds, reveling in the fact that even now she felt the bond between her and the dragon deepening; she could feel his emotions better than anyone else, and she felt that there was no one else she would rather have by her side, not even Eragon.

As soon as she reached her room, she placed the egg on the cool dirt that made up the floor to her room. As it shook violently, she stared in fascination as Fírnen crawled the rest of the way out of his pearly green egg. He looked around hungrily, and walked up to Arya. She beamed at the creature in pure joy, caught up in the moment, and tentatively touched it's head. A burst of energy shot through her arm and through her entire body, and she felt as if she was being melded into the dragon. She felt as if her arm was crackling and popping, and being numbed by ice cold water.

When it stopped, Arya felt as if a puzzle peice had snapped, and she had gained a second conciousness. She at once felt one with the dragon, and realized that the bond was all that it was made out to be and more. She tentatively touched it's feeble conciousness, and recognized similarities to Saphira's mind, yet she also felt it was structured differently, as if he was...

Fírnen is male! She thought to herself.

If he is male, then... She trailed off, not wanting her emotions to get the best of her. As she turned to look outside her room, she noticed Lord Däthedr, among others, deep in thought as he conversed with Däralekk. Not wanting to leave Fírnen unprotected, she reassured him with her mind, and sprinted towards the Crags of Tel'naeír with him squawking in protest as he bounced around in her arms. She set him upon a soft swath of grass and advised him on what he should hunt should he get hungry with projected images and feelings. She watched for a few minutes as he rummaged in the forest, looking for food to eat.

When she felt he understood and would not get up to any mischeif, she ran back to Tialdarí Hall, and slowed down to a swift stride as she got close. Trying her best to act dignified, she sat herself in the seat directly opposite Däralekk to get a good look at this grey elf.

His features were striking; His ears were very furry, yet she could tell they were about the same size as Eragon's. His face resembled that of a wolf; it was covered with grey hair, and even his claws were sharp, and his hands hairy like an animal. She had learned from Anglea that their hair had been grey since the beginning of time, but whether that was due to a spell or due to how grey elves were created, she was not sure.

She wondered to herself if he had any relationship to Angela, and resolved to ask an elf that had known them both about it later. She also wondered if he had the same problem Angela had with casting spells, though it seemed not due to how strong his mind was, and due to the fact that the two disadvantages seemed to come together, as with Angela. Angela had said that most, not all, of her race, had the same issue as her with a weak mind and not being able to access magic as well as they used to.

"I aagree it is a most peculiar time indeed that I have awoken, yet I beleive it has been because of the great disturbance Galbatorix's death has made on Alagaesia." She heard Daralekk tell those gathered around the table. She then realized she had missed the majority of the conversation, and many elves were leaving to, as far as she could tell, ask the many houses what they thought of electing Däralekk as ruler.

Lord Däthedr called her over to talk to her. "Arya, I do not think you have met Däralekk. He is the only grey elf other than Angela to have communicated with our race.' Here he paused, as if thinking of the right thing to say. 'We are proposing that he become our new ruler, for he is undoubtedly the most acheived and powerful being that we have met as of yet, and you may not relate, but a good friend to many of us. We would like you to examine our memories of him, and decide for yourself if you would wish for him to become ruler of our race.

As she reached into Däthedr's mind, she could feel Däralekk supervising the exchange of memories, sometimes giving memories of his own to Däthedr, to formulate a better understanding of what what going on in the memories.

They then proceeded to supply hear with a steady stream of memories, and the sheer ammount of memories shocked her. She presumed he had been around a very long time, and flitted among the memories for a few seconds at a time, getting small snatches of conversation and his personality here and there and fit it all together like a puzzle peice, giving her much more information yet leading her to the same conclusion she would have gotten had she only examined 1 memory intensively.

She did not have to think long on her decision, not only because she supported whatever decision Lord Däthedr made on the subject, and also because she had no intention of aspiring to be queen, as she had just become a Dragon Rider. It would not go over well with the races because of what Galbatorix had done, and most will fear another rider becoming king or queen for fear of another dictator. Many will be on edge for years to come, and some might not even recover at all from the war. Elves may be the only exception to the steady stream of reports regarding conflicts and suicide attempts due to the sheer stress the war had wrought.

"I am in agreement with your decision, Lord Däthedr."

Seeming satisfied, he strode towards a seemingly random house that represented a certain group of elves, Däralekk right on his heels.

Arya, watching them go, sent an inquiring thought towards Fírnen. She found him eating a rabbit he evidently had found mangled in the forest. She then squatted next to him and proceeded to inform him of the customs he would need when he could talk, not wanting to squander precious time. He would need to appear corteous to humans and elves alike, so she supplied him with memories of their various customs and tendencies.

He examined these memories carefully, for even though he was still considered a newborn baby by a human's standards, he was a dragon, and dragons were extremely intelligent even when they had just hatched. Among the memories Arya sent him were those of how he was saved from Galbatorix's clutches, which he sent Arya feelings of how grateful he was. Also among the memories were letters and symbols of both English and the Ancient Language.

You should get to sleep. I will watch over you. She instructed him. She sensed a projected thought of acceptance from him, and lead him to her room in Tialdarí Hall. Many elves stopping to look at Fírnen, but was too preoccupied with guiding him to notice. Once she had led him to her room and he laid his head down on the pillow on her bed, she lay down beside him and subjected herself to the waking dreams that was sleep for elves.

Chapter 4: Coronation

The next morning, Arya was woken up by a commotion in the forest. As she stepped out of her house to see what it was, she was greeted by Fírnen curled up on the ground, his effulgant scales shining brilliantly in the late morning sunlight. He far outshined the plants and trees around him, and it almost seemed as if he did not come from this world.

Fírnen slowly opened up his wings to their full extent, casting a green dappled radiance across the clearing, making it seem as if the grass stalks were made of shimmering emeralds.

Ready? He inquired.

I am so glad I was not chosen to become queen. She ruminated to mostly herself, yet sent her feelings towards Fírnen.

As they walked side by side towards the clearing situated under the Menoa Tree, Arya thought about how grateful she was that the hectic past few days were over, and they had finally chosen a successor to Islanzadí.

She knew many houses had only grudgingly agreed to approve of Darälekk as their new leader, as still many wanted her to become queen, some with reasons she was yet unaware of.

Nearing the clearing, they noticed that most, if not all of Du Weldenvarden was situated in this one clearing. Taking up her position in the forefront of the ceremony, she gazed in awe as thousands upon thousands of elves streamed in by the second. She could sense a stirring deep within the Menoa tree, and knew that Linnéa the elf would be watching over the proceedings.

Once the elves all got situated, a respectful silense pervaded the clearing as first Islanzadí's funeral procession trundled forward cautiously. Elves parted as the casket was directed to the center of the clearing, coming together again as it passed.

As her mother was laid to rest in her grave, Fírnen sent loving thoughts and pictures to Arya and consoled her. Despite her calm demeanor, she was broken inside; memories flooded through her mind of the last few conversations she had had with her mother. As she dwelled on these, Fírnen interrupted her thoughts by sending her recollections of happy memories she had with her mother.

A sense of acceptance washed over Arya, and she straightened her shoulders. She could not change what was not and could never be, and it did not bode well to dwell on such thoughts when she was needed.

As she pulled herself out of her mind, she realized she had been contemplating for quite a while as Darälekk was striding regally towards the Menoa, accompanied by a procession of elves.

When Darälekk was standing facing the assemblage of elves, a very old elf walked up in front of him. He first asked question to the leaders of the several houses of Ellesméra, which were lined up in the front of the tree. He then asked Darälekk questions about what he was going to do for the betterment of Alagaésia and why he would be a good leader.

As the elf placed the beautiful clinquant gold crown on Darälekk's head, the light bedazzling onlookers with brilliant golden sunlight dappling accross it's smooth surface, all the elves of importance lined up in front of him to swear fealty.

When it was Arya's turn, she walked up to Darälekk and kneeled.

"I, Arya, swear fealty to the king of the elves, and shall serve the elves til the day I die."

As Fírnen walked up to her, he commented, I wish now to fly until my wings fall off, for I am not used to being confined to a small space for so long. Consenting, Arya witnessed through Fírnen's eyes as he propelled his wings downwards, pushing against the air with all his might. Fflapping his wings hard and fast to gain altitude, Arya joined the many elves streaming out of the clearing, some already loped off into the deeper reaches of the forest, having travelled long and far to attend this ceremony.

Compensating for the shift in weight from a wind current, Fírnen levelled off. She gleaned through his emotions that he exorbitantly revelled in the fact that he was not attending some dusty ceremony, freely gliding with the currents, truly free above the constraining arms of the trees below.

Smiling, Arya listened to his thoughts and looked through his eyes as she walked towards her house.

Bracing herself for impact as Fírnen landed, shockwaves rippled across the clearing. As they settled down to sleep, Arya sat up for a while thinking of the things to come in the next few months.

Chapter 5: Training

The days soon began to blend together for Arya. She taught Fírnen how to do aerial manuevers in the sky when fighting other dragons, got him used to wearing a saddle, and eventually, after months of Fírnen growing rapidly, she even got to ride him. He took a while getting used to the abnormal feel of a saddle, but finally relented and let her on, for he would have to someday if she was going to ride on his back into battle. He longed for the day he would grow large enough to breathe fire, and imagined his maw spewing 10 foot green crackling flames.

Däralekk proved to be a great leader. He set new wards around the forest that forced anyone coming in to state their intentions in the ancient language before they could enter, thus solving the problem of foresters chopping down the trees in the elves' beloved forest. He also supervised the ferrying of eggs towards the 4 races, ensuring that no one was able to steal the eggs as Durza had almost done. He proceeded to teach the elves new spells, ones that allowed them to acheive things they had not thought possible, and was able to dicipher most of how Galbatorix did what he did, yet he did not dare try to delve in black magic magic he did not know of.

Once he was grown enough that she could fly with him, she took him flying off the Crags of Tal'naeir. He exorbitantly enjoyed flying, and Arya shared in that joy as she melded her minds with him, and it almost seemed as if they were one when they flew, yet she continued to be aware of her actions and the things around her so she would not fall off. She made a saddle for him herself as she would not have something made for her dragon by any hand but her own, and Fírnen reluctantly agreed it was a kind gesture, as he had come to hate saddles.

As Arya settled down on her bed to rest til dawn, Fírnen poked his head through the door, as he was too large to fit inside her room anymore without disturbing the trees that made up her house.

Arya. Fírnen said, drawing her out of her thoughts.

What is it? She inquired, not unkind.

Vanir is requesting your presence and comes bearing a letter. He informed her.

At this she walked outside, politely took the letter from Vanir, thanked him, and sat on the edge of the bed as she read the note.

Dear Arya,

Has there been any progress choosing Islanzadí's successor? Also, how are you? Saphira and I have been sent by Nasuada to break most everybody and most dangerous spells cast by Galbatorix, and have been kept busy. I wish you a safe return and look forward to seeing you soon.

-Eragon and Saphira

As much as Arya wished to write back to Eragon, she feared for Fírnen's safety if the letter got intercepted along the way and was pased to the wrong hands. She consulted Fírnen on the matter, and he agreed that he would not feel safe if a group of powerful spellcasters caught wind of his existence.

Arya, may I ask you a few questions? Fírnen inquired, as if tentative to broach a certain subject.

She walked outside and propped herself against Fírnen's side. He hummed as she scratched the base of his neck.

Where did I come from? He asked. I also would like to know what happened while I was still in my egg. I remained oblivious to the tumultous events happening all around me.

Arya sighed, and began to recount everything that had happened in the last few months. He interupted only a few times to ask questions, but for the most part Arya's account was flawless, due to her being an elf.

What do you feel towards Eragon? He inquired, despite being able to look into her emotions to tell.

I am not sure. He is still very young, and human's minds may change overnight. Other than that, I do have feelings for him.

Tell me about Saphira.

Would you like to see my memories? It would be much easier to explain through images, as I cannot fully capture her beauty with words.

Complying, Fírnen reached into Arya's thoughts. She then sent him images and memories of Saphira. She did her best to capture her beauty as much as she could, knowing that his request was not entirely based on curiosity. Satisfied, Fírnen drew back from her mind and remained silent for a while.

When he rejoined her mind with his, she could sense a feeling of longing from him.

Soon, my Fírnen. Soon we will join them in the Empire. She assuaged him gently.

At this, she curled up underneath Fírnen as a green cloak dropped down from the sky, bedazzling her. The wing then completely enveloped her, as she drifted into a sleepless dream.

Chapter 6: Leavetaking

As the next few months passed, Arya began to become impatient as she waited for Fírnen to grow large enough to defend himself against magicians and attackers. She longed to see the rest of the world again, despite being able to scry any place she had previously seen or been.

Fírnen shared this impatience, as he wanted to see the rest of the world, and meet all the people Arya spoke to him so highly of, especially Saphira.

Once Arya deemed Fírnen large enough to carry her and supplies enough to get to the other side of Alagaësia and to defend himself, she decided to ask Rhunön about a sword.

As she neared the reclusive old elf's tent, a voice rang out of the tent.

"I'm guessing you are in need of a sword, Arya?" As she stopped right before the opening, Rhunön stepped out, handing her Tämerlein.

"Here, try this on, would you? I haven't got all day." She asked, seemingly exasperated; yet the twinkle in her eye denoted otherwise.

As Arya took the sword, she felt the grip on the handle, and something seemed out of place. She preferred to fight with a hand and a half sword, so she could just as easily weild it with two hands as pick up a sheild and use it as a one handed sword.

"This sword will not work for me. I prefer to fight with a hand and a half sword."

"I expected as much. You do not have to tell me your style, as it is my job to know the fighting style of every elf that resides here. Shoo shoo,' she gestured for Arya to leave, 'I have work to do, and only a few days to do it in if your mood is anything to go by."

Flustered, Arya briskly strode through the forest towards Tialdarí Hall, and announced her leave to Däralekk, Lord Däthedr, and others of importance she wished to know that she and her dragon were leaving.

The very nexxt day, as Arya was strapping on the saddle to go flying with Fírnen, Rhunön interecepted her.

"Here,' she announced with bags under her eyes, 'I have finished your sword." She offered the bundle wrapped package she carried cradled in her arms.

As Arya took the sword, she felt the handle take form around her hand, fitting her perfectly. As she lifted it into the air, it felt no lighter than a mere stick, and she was fascinated.

She expressed her heartfelt gratitude to Rhunön, and she replied, "Think nothing of it. I was but doing my duty."

Rhunön promptly left soon after, exchanging a few pleasantries with the other elves, then disappeared, as was her wont; for she was very reclusive.

Arya sent Vanir with a letter to Eragon, telling him to come to one of her favorite places in Ilirea. The next few days passed by in a blur for Arya, and she and Fírnen grew closer and closer as dragon and rider.

As she laid to rest for the last time until she would leave Ellesméra, Arya's thoughts started drifted towards Eragon and Saphira. She was still uncertain as to if he would change his mind, as human's minds were very susceptible. She knew that elves did not stray too far from their beliefs, so she knew that if she went after Eragon and he changed his mind, she would be heartbroken for the second time, so she decided that she would wait and see what happens, and after all Eragon would live eternally, she could afford to wait.

Not wanting to waste time thinking about things she could not change at the moment, Arya lay back down and settled in to sleep.


End file.
